Entropy
by Virtue
Summary: n. lack of order or predictability; gradual decline into disorder. Series of oneshots of love and loss in the name of the Jenova Project.


**One Drink**

A/N: During a replay of FFVII I became intrigued by this pairing and Vincent's backstory in general. There is definitely not nearly enough fiction on them out there. As a disclaimer I'd like to add that I've only played FFVII, and know next to nothing about any post game storylines released, so some details in these oneshots may conflict with those!

* * *

Though he was never technically off-duty, he ran into her during arguably off-duty hours on the first night they arrived in Nibelheim. He had completed his rounds and shuffled over to the single tavern that the town offered, a small house connected to the inn at the town square.

The chill of the autumn night made him grateful he had bothered to pack the single cold weather coat he owned. Most assignments weren't so stationary, and he never dealt with temperatures or an altitude like this is Midgar.

He pulled the door open, relieved at the warm glow of the adjacent fireplace of the tavern washing over him.

There was a surprising number of occupants in the room, granted it was such a late hour in a rural community. Several middle aged men in suspenders were gathered around the table engaging in a rather boisterous card game as others were scattered about the room in various states of intoxication.

 _'Apparently Nibelheim knows how to party.'_ He thought to himself, amused.

A woman brushed his shoulder as she passed by, and he paid her no mind as he made his way to an empty seat at the bar. He felt the eyes in the room follow his every move amidst the clatter of drinks and conversation. It was to be expected; he was a stark contrast to his surroundings, neatly groomed dark hair and a clean shaven face dressed in a black trench coat over a suit- he knew it made people like these uneasy.

The bartender was an elderly man who nodded his way in acknowledgment.

"Whiskey." He nodded back, gesturing a finger to the shelf behind the man.

" _Vincent!"_ A familiar voice called behind him. He turned his head as the bartender started pouring his glass.

It was Dr. Crescent- Lucrecia, as she told him she preferred to be called.

He hadn't recognized her as they briefly brushed shoulders when he entered the establishment. Her hair was down, hanging loosely her shoulder. He found himself lightly amused that even in her attempt to appear casual in a bar, she still looked the part of a high profile scientist dressed primly in a white turtleneck tucked neatly into a grey tweed skirt.

"I wasn't sure if that was you at first," She laughed warmly, "But no one else here owns that coat- except may Professor Hojo. So I did a double take." She teased, sliding next to him as he draped his coat on the back of the chair

"Another red ma'am?" The bartender asked her with a twinkle in his eye as he pushed the glass of whiskey Vincent's way.

Lucrecia nodded. "Yes please." She put a hand on his arm. "I thought I was done but I ran into my friend here so I decided to come back."

Vincent raised an eyebrow, eyeing her from the side. He was a little taken aback by the forwardness of her touch. "You seem quite... relaxed compared to when I last saw you."

"You mean I seem drunk." She replied bluntly.

He smirked a little, covering it with his glass against his lips.

"-But I'm actually not." She added, nodding thanks to the bartender as he passed her a bowl shaped glass of red wine.

"No?"

"No. But I _am_ relaxed compared to my usual self, you're right about that."

"Wine will do that." Vincent acknowledged. He came to the tavern anticipating a night alone in his own thoughts, but he felt comfortable in her presence. He preferred to be on his own, but he found himself glad that she was there. Lucrecia had a warm presence compared to the elderly quirkiness of Gast and coldness of Hojo.

"I came here after dinner with the others. Hojo didn't think it would be a good idea to mingle much with the townsfolk but I figured if I kept to myself it wouldn't hurt anything."

"No I suppose not." Vincent answered, eyes drifting to the window outside. There wasn't much of a view, just a barren tree with several dead leaves still clinging to it as the others rustled over the ground below.

"Besides, there isn't much for grocery shopping in this town and I decided it would be odd of me to come here and order a couple glasses to go."

He suppressed a smile. Her humor was subtle; he liked that.

"So a bottle, then." He responded dryly, his face keeping straight.

She laughed, pushing a lock of long brown hair behind her ear. She was turned toward him now as he was faced square to the bar.

"I like the way you think, Valentine. Can you imagine what Gast and Hojo would think if I strolled in holding an armful of wine bottles?" She inquired, amused.

Vincent sipped his drink again, letting the waves of numbing warmth wash through him. "Is that frowned upon... in your department?"

Lucrecia cocked her head, swirling her fingertip over her glass. "Why, is it not frowned upon in yours?"

Vincent paused. Drinking, even heavily was very much a part of the culture among his fellow agents. It seemed like a natural part of the job when your life revolved around interrogation, assassination, and high stakes in general.

"Usually not. It depends."

He felt Lucrecia eyeing him critically, but acted like he didn't notice.

"I suppose it comes with the territory, high stakes and all."

His lips pursed in response, he was impressed. He had only just met the trio of Shinra scientists, all undoubtedly brilliant, but Lucrecia was incredibly intuitive, even compared to most predominantly "street smart" folks he'd interacted with.

They finished their drinks together as she engaged him in light conversation. He noticed that she seemed the avoid personal questions that people tended to go to when being acquainted with people- things like _'Where are you from?'_ or _'How many siblings do you have?'_

He appreciated that, however strange it was. Lucrecia was an anomaly in this sleepy town, and particularly in that dreary old manor.

Vincent helped her from her barstool though she tried to swat him away He couldn't help but notice she was slightly wobbly in her heels. They donned their jackets and walked the cobblestoned streets in silence. He pretended not to notice that she was having some difficulty maneuvering the terrain while intoxicated in her choice of footwear, eyeing her carefully to watch for signs of an impending fall. That was the last thing he needed to start the job.

* * *

They entered the manor quietly. He braced her arm as she leaned on him to remove her shoes, so as to not wake the other inhabitants with her heels clicking against the wood floor.

Their rooms were just across the hall from one another.

"Goodnight, Vincent." She said quietly in a half-whisper, as they stood facing one another in the hall, jackets draped over their respective arms.

"Goodnight." He replied.

Fishing a key from her coat pocket, she inserted it in the door and it unlocked with a _click._

"Lucrecia."

She turned her head back to him.

"If you need anything- I'm here."

She smiled. "Thank you Vincent. We should do this again."

He nodded and turned on his heels to approach his own door, unlocking it, entering the room and closing it behind him.

Given it's place above the furnace downstairs that had been going all evening, the room was incredibly stuffy. He opened the lone window to allow the cold night air in.

He draped his trench coat over the foot of the bed and removed his suit jacket with it.

 _'If you need anything- I'm here.'_ He repeated his words to himself as he fumbled over the buttons of his shirt in the mirror of the bathroom. Was that an odd thing for him to say? Was it the whiskey? Or did she just have that strange of an effect of him, to make him say things like that?

It had to be the whiskey- though he'd only had one drink.


End file.
